


you know you're mine

by myownremedy



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Slap or Kiss, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 04:24:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5571154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myownremedy/pseuds/myownremedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire doesn’t know how they started playing truth or dare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you know you're mine

**Author's Note:**

> my christmas fic for Norma <3  
> thanks to Alex for the speedy beta, you're amazing as usual  
> title from the song Two Weeks by fka twigs  
> inspiration came from these posts: [1,](http://grantpear.tumblr.com/post/129385500157/andasr-powai-spin-the-bottle-except-instead) [2.](http://grantpear.tumblr.com/post/129198260957/kittykarnstein-thewasteoftime-kabudy-why)
> 
> Disclaimer: this is a transformative work. I make no money off of it. I do not own what inspired this work (Les Miserables book, Les Miserables (2011) movie), but I do own this work itself and hold full copyright over it. Please do not show to anyone involved in the movie or put this up on another site such as Goodreads or Wattpad. Thank you.

Grantaire doesn’t know how they started playing truth or dare. He knows it had something to do with celebrating Combeferre’s graduation from medical school and his acceptance at the local teaching hospital. He remembers the party going from sophisticated to feel good to absolutely trashy. He remembers heading over to Enjolras’s, Courfeyrac’s, and Combeferre’s shared apartment with the rest of the Amis. He even remembers convincing Feuilly to try a jello shot. But he doesn’t know how they arranged themselves into a circle or where the old wine bottle came from.

What he does know is that the bottle is pointing at Enjolras, and Enjolras is panicking.

Courfeyrac, obviously tipsy, sprawls into Jehan’s lap while pointing at Enjolras. “Aha!” he says, grinning. “You’re up, Chief! Truth or Dare!”

Enjolras’s nose is small and flat but he still manages to look down it at Courfeyrac. He’s always reminded Grantaire of an elegant, prissy cat. A very hot prissy cat. Maybe that last jello shot was a mistake.

“Truth.” Enjolras says at last, narrowing his eyes at Courfeyrac. He’s right to be suspicious; Courfeyrac has been known to ruin lives with truth or dare.

“Who do you like?” Courfeyrac asks immediately, waggling his eyebrows.

Enjolras scowls at him, spots of red staining his cheeks. “Pass.” He says flatly.

Grantaire, who until now has been leaning against Feuilly, sits up in interest. Courfeyrac and Enjolras have known each other since they were sixteen. Courfeyrac is one of the people who knows Enjolras best; Courfeyrac would _know_ if Enjolras liked someone. Why would he ask Enjolras now? Is Enjolras refusing to tell him or is it someone in the room?

“Enjolras,” Courfeyrac says, smooth as silk, “that’s not how truth or dare works. You have to answer.”

Enjolras looks around at all of them, from Combeferre to Joly to Jehan and then, fleetingly, at Grantaire before turning back at Courfeyrac.

“Give me a dare instead.” His voice is like steel.

“I dare you to tell me who you like.” Courfeyrac has obviously planned for this.

“ _Courfeyrac.”_ Enjolras snaps, setting down his beer bottle with a loud clink.

“Oh, time for slap or kiss!” Joly suggests from their position between Musichetta and Bousset. “That’s the alternative, right?”

“Slap or kiss, slap or kiss!” Bahorel chants, slapping one hand against the floor in beat with his words. Feuilly twists to grin at him.

“Fine.” Courfeyrac sighs. “I’ll spin.”

“No.” Enjolras snaps. “Combeferre can spin.”

“Okay, okay.” Courfeyrac holds up his hands. “Combeferre, go ahead.”

Combeferre reaches around Eponine, who is half sitting in his lap, and spins the wine bottle. It spins and then slowly, slowly, slowly stops with the neck pointing at…Grantaire.

Grantaire freezes, then looks up to find Enjolras staring at him, red mouth slightly open, normally unreadable brown eyes full of horror.

Fuck.

“Enjolras, you know the rules.” Courfeyrac sounds _gleeful_. “Go into the kitchen and shut the door.”

Enjolras gets up and walks like he’s going to the guillotine. Grantaire watches him go, hand spasming around his glass of wine.

“Please don’t make me do this.” He says as soon as the door shuts behind Enjolras. “Please.”

All of them know about Grantaire’s crush on Enjolras. Hell, Enjolras probably knows. Grantaire has never been subtle about it; he’s never seen the point.

Musichetta immediately reaches around Feuilly to grip one Grantaire’s shoulder. Next to him, Cosette grabs his hand and squeezes.

“It’s just a silly game,” Jehan says comfortingly. “He won’t think anything of it.

Courfeyrac is watching him carefully. “Do you not want to kiss him or something?”

“ _He_ doesn’t want to kiss _me!_ ” Grantaire remembers not to yell at the last second. “Didn’t you see him? He acted like he was going to his death.”

“He just hates PDA.” Courfeyrac says after a minute. “It’s not personal, I promise.”

Grantaire turns and buries his face in Feuilly’s shoulder and tries to block out the sounds of them debating what he should do.

He’s liked Enjolras since Enjolras showed up in his, Joly’s, and Bousset’s kitchen. Grantaire had been hung over and hadn’t known Enjolras was there, so he had come stumbling into the kitchen in a pair of boxers and a ‘Say Hey If You’re Gay’ shirt. Enjolras had taken one look at him, smiled, and said “Hey.”

Grantaire had been absolutely unprepared for all of it. Enjolras’s sheer beauty, his long black hair, his killer smile (he had _dimples_ ) and for him to casually come out to Grantaire before even introducing himself.

And then it had all come crashing down because Enjolras was there because he was part of the activism group that Joly, Bousset and Musichetta had recently joined, and he wanted Grantaire to come too, and _what did Grantaire mean, ‘activism is pointless because humanity won’t change?’_

So they weren’t close. They were friends, but only because they had mutual friends.

Enjolras had been different lately, a little softer, a little friendlier, even though Grantaire still didn’t see the point of the Les Amis de l'ABC, and maybe Grantaire had deluded himself into thinking that this meant Enjolras actually liked him, but.

The panic in Enjolras’s eyes had thoroughly disproved this notion.

“Grantaire should slap Enjolras.” Bahorel is saying firmly, one giant hand resting on Grantaire’s knee. “I know we shouldn’t take Grantaire’s feelings into account but consent is important and it would be wrong to make Grantaire kiss Enjolras when he clearly doesn’t want to.”

“I agree.” Combeferre and Eponine say together.

Courfeyrac glances at Combeferre and raises his eyebrows. Combeferre shrugs.

“Okay.” Courfeyrac sighs. “Is everyone in agreement? Grantaire gets to slap Enjolras?”

Marius smiles encouragingly at Grantaire around Cosette’s shoulder. Grantaire stares at him.

“Enjolras!” Courfeyrac yells. “You can come back now.”

It takes a minute for Enjolras to come in, and when he does he’s holding himself taut, like he’s trying to psych himself up. Grantaire tries to figure out what Enjolras is feeling and can’t; all he can feel is the thrum of his own nerves.

“Stand up.” Feuilly whispers in his ear, shoving him gently, and Grantaire gets shakily to his feet. Enjolras stops in front of him. He’s been biting his lip, Grantaire notices; his mouth is redder is usual, and his long black hair is out of his long plait and falls wildly around his face and down his back.

Grantaire supposes he’s always wanted to slap Enjolras, in a vague sort of way. With his mouth, not with his hand. He’s afraid if he raises a hand to Enjolras’s fine boned face he’ll end up caressing it the way he uses charcoal to when he’s drawing.

Enjolras is just so fucking frustrating, and now he’s stepping closer, close enough to kiss, and his lovely red mouth is set and he’s clenching his jaw, like he’s readying himself for a fight – he’s _afraid_ , Grantaire realizes, afraid Grantaire will kiss him, and Grantaire –

Grantaire slaps him theatrically rather than hard, his palm cracking loudly against Enjolras’s cheek. Enjolras’s head turns with the blow and Grantaire swears he hears Enjolras exhale in relief.

“Thank god.” Enjolras whispers and Grantaire clenches his jaw, because there’s no reason for Enjolras to be cruel like this – he probably didn’t mean like that, but it’s so fucking hard for Grantaire to give him the benefit of the doubt right now.

Enjolras is smiling at him, the dimpled smile that he first smiled at Grantaire so many years ago. Grantaire forces himself to smile back, knowing it’s more of a grimace, and goes to take a step back.

Enjolras surges forward and grabs his wrist, long brown fingers wrapping around it gently, and then he’s kissing Grantaire, his mouth warm and gentle. Grantaire gasps and Enjolras keeps kissing him, cupping Grantaire’s cheek with his free hand. Grantaire kisses back, tangling his hands in Enjolras’s long black hair, nipping at Enjolras’s lip, only to feel Enjolras smile against his mouth.

“I – I don’t understand?” Grantaire stammers when they separate, his voice higher than he would like.

“I like you, a lot.” Enjolras’s hand slides down from his wrist to his hand, and Grantaire automatically laces their fingers together and squeezes. “I didn’t want our first kiss to be because of some stupid game.”

“Oh.” Grantaire murmurs. “I – thank god.”

Enjolras laughs. “I take it you’re okay with it?”

“Wildly, wildly okay.” Grantaire whispers.

Someone is clapping. They look around to see Courfeyrac clapping enthusiastically and the rest of their friends beaming at them. Bahorel is wiping tears from his eyes.

“Thank god is right!” Courfeyrac says.

“ _Finally_.” Joly and Bousset chorus.

“Seriously.” Combeferre is smiling gently. “I thought we would have to do something drastic.”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Enjolras says hastily. “Grantaire, do you, um,” He’s slowly tugging Grantaire towards the stairs that lead up to the bedrooms, and Grantaire is so, so fucking okay with that.

“Um, Enjolras and I have to, uh, talk. So, bye! Congrats Combeferre!” He waves at the rest of their friends, grinning, as Enjolras pulls him up the stairs.

“Talk, huh?” Enjolras asks once they’re in his room and he’s kicked the door shut behind them.

“I guess we could do other things too.” Grantaire says, laughing, and leans in for a kiss.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [visit me on tumblr!](http://marnz.tumblr.com/) prompts welcome.


End file.
